


Untouchable

by ultrafreakyfangirl



Category: Gilmore Girls
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:47:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27203374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultrafreakyfangirl/pseuds/ultrafreakyfangirl
Summary: This is set sometime post AYITL. Just a cute little ficlet re-watching the series inspired.
Relationships: Luke Danes/Lorelai Gilmore
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16





	Untouchable

Lorelai pushed her hair behind her ears, once again hiding it behind the material of her knitted hat, the hat that the man in her life lovingly, she was sure, called _‘plain stupid-looking._ ’ He followed that with a _‘you look good in objectively anything, but nobody could ever look good in that. Not even you.’_

She smiled to herself at the memory, nearly slipping on the icy pavement before pushing the door open to the diner, and at the jangle of the bell, two identical dark-haired heads snapped up, turning immediately in the direction of the door, in _her_ direction, which made her smile wider. There they were - her two little chickadees.

“Mommy!” Adelaide was the first to call out, she always was, ever the little scene-stealer, but Baby B, or, Alicia, as she was more affectionately known, was known to be always following close behind. “Mommy, you’re here!”

At his daughters’ cries of delight, Luke came promptly from the kitchen, his baseball cap tinged darkly with sweat, his hair unkempt, plaid shirt untucked, and his jeans slack at his waist.

Oh, her _diner boy,_ how she loves him, and how her mother, well, for her part Emily slightly more-than-tolerates him now, and it’s annoying as much as it is sweet to think that the step up from disdain is as much for her than it is for her granddaughters. The relationship she has with her mother now is off-putting, so unlike the one she had with her only a mere six or seven years ago, but she just might be slowly warming up to it, or at the very least, the idea of it.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked her after wrapping his arms tightly around her waist in greeting. “Hm?”

She nuzzled her face into his chest, inhaling the residual smell of grease and coffee beans, a scent that was buried so far into her subconscious, she was sure it was one of her phantom smells, like _snow._ He could be in the diner and she swears that she can smell him from _Doosey’s_ if she concentrates just enough.

“How much I need coffee.”

His grip got tighter on her. Subtly, but still, it was there. It was enough to send tingles down her spine. “Just coffee?” He whispered gravely into her ear. “Are you sure?”

“Mm…not anymore,” she murmured back, a trace of seduction fondly marking her words as her hands travelled low down his back. “I might have something else in mind now, something a little _dirty_.”

He chuckled lowly. “Thought so.”

“Gross,” a voice cut in. A familiar voice. A slightly jaded voice, though not necessarily towards them. He looked up to meet those very same blue, blue eyes that stop him in his tracks nearly every time he looks into them – she wins a lot of arguments that way.

The both of them do actually, no, scratch that, all three of them do. Rory’s coy smile and subtle blush reminds him again of her mother, and now he’s thinking about that night nearly six years ago now: he’s staring at her bare, pale shoulder, dark hair moving slightly with each breath she takes as she murmurs _kids are a great idea._

His twin daughters are everything he could have asked for, but he certainly lucked out in the bonus kid department.

“You and Logan still on the rocks, huh?” he asked her, kissing her temple gently in familial comfort, inhaling the soft, flowery scent of her shampoo.

Rory sighed, slumping against his side, and leaning into the affection, which made him smile. He had always sort of thought of Rory as his own, as much as she was Stars Hollow’s princess, but now it was just official.

“Yeah. Don’t mind me. You guys can be adorable, and I’ll just be sulking over here in the corner.”

“Ah, ah,” Lorelai tapped her eldest daughter on the shoulder, before carding her hands through her hair in an act ostensibly meant to sooth. “Rory Gilmore does not sulk. She never sulks. And over my dead body will she start now. Do something about it, kid. You love him, he loves you, lord knows he does, so you gotta try and make it right.”

Rory sighed in response to her mother and Luke, for his part, gave her a gentle smile. “You’re mother’s right, sweetheart. It’s not like you to be a sitting duck.”

She looked up at him, gave him the famous reproachful, but sweet, _Gilmore_ look. She wasn’t sold. “Remember when I dropped out of Yale and my life was filled with Elizabeth Taylor perfume and luncheons?” She pointed a finger at her stepfather. “Sitting. Duck.”

“And you bounced back. And you will from this, too. In the meantime, can I get you a cup of coffee?”

“A _vat_ of coffee would be lovely so I could drown this day in it. Thanks, Luke.”

“Daddy, can we have coffee too?” Adelaide asked him, blinking her sordid Gilmore eyes at him.

“Yeah,” Alicia echoed, “ _please,_ Daddy? We want a vat too…what’s a vat?”

His six year olds were inquisitive as hell, and he probably had their mother to thank for that, because they were not unlike their older sister at that age. Half sister, but in this family, the _Gilmore-Danes family_ , they never did anything by halves.

“No, but you girls can have hot chocolate.”

“Mommy and sissy Rory drink coffee, so why can’t we?” Adelaide asked, folding her arms across her chest, her younger-by-three-minutes sister following suit, and with a glare coming through those sapphire eyes.

“Because, Addie, I don’t want you and Ali to stunt your growth. It’s too late for sissy Rory, and it is _way_ too late for Mommy.”

“Hey!” Lorelai and Rory chimed in together. “Easy there,” Rory added, “don’t hate the coffee, hate the genetics.”

Luke grumbled in response, ruffling Rory’s hair and placing a gentle kiss to the side of Lorelai’s head, both in resignation. He could still hate the coffee in private. “Addie, Ali, you can gave extra whip cream, okay?”

“And chocolate sauce?”

Luke sighed. He wasn’t winning this fight, so he could at least compromise. “Deal.”

The girls squealed in excitement and not for the first time, Luke was baffled by what sort of things made kids so crazy excited. He would never understand, but for his girls, Rory included, he would at least try his hardest to share in whatever it is. So, he smiled.

Luke Danes never thought he would have that cliched picture of the perfect family – wife and kids, a dog – Paul Anka the Third.

He didn’t think he was that guy – the guy who made coffee for someone he loved in the morning, _someones,_ he corrected himself, thinking of Rory’s smiling face just a moment ago when he put the steaming mug in front of her, how it lit up like it hadn’t in a few days now, and he wasn’t the guy who waited for the cable people to show – 4 hours, on a Saturday, mind you, and he wasn’t all the things he is now proving himself to be.

And he loves it. He loves being the married guy, the family man, the diner owner who’s not always in a mood anymore. These days, he’s as happy as he could ever imagine being, and he wanted reassurance that it would never change.

The reassurance came soon after in the way Lorelai kissed him goodbye, whispering I love you against his mouth; in the way Rory kissed his cheek in a bid of goodbye in that comfortable, familial sort of way that he was now completely and utterly crazy about from her; in the way his two twin girls spun identically on the barstools at the counter, their whipped creamed upper lips and cheesy giggles; all of it making his heart _so damn happy._

At fifty-two, Luke Danes felt untouchable.


End file.
